


Tricky Games

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, F/M, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Leadership, M/M, Parenthood, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Relationship(s), Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:51:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7798921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once Dis receives word, she makes for Erebor, determined to see her gravely-wounded sons and brother, determined to unpick and rebraid the mess her brother has made. There’s none more equal to the task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tricky Games

 

 

 

 

When the first message arrived declaring Thorin Oakenshield King Under the Mountain and also noting his glorious achievements in battle and how close to death he was, Dis's first action was to take only a moment to thank the Valor quietly and profusely, her whole being knotted with gratitude. There was no time for more. Then she convened her council. There would be celebrations and all else at Erebor, what mattered now was action. A small group was quickly sent to the Mountain, they would scout the roads that those leaving the Blue Mountains would take. The Orcs had been defeated but they were not vanquished and they weren’t the only risks that awaited. Dis would not see this journey prolonged or made more painful.

 

She met discreetly with her spymaster – only Haraka, her second, knew their identity and that was only through necessity. The spymaster was given clear instruction; to send forth Dwarves in their employ to seek stories that could give Dis more information than the message could hold. She would have the most complete truth possible, about what truly awaited her in the Mountain.

 

Dis privately read the message from Erebor several times. She recognised Balin’s hand. It was Thorin’s most trusted advisor writing to Princess Dis, Regent of the Blue Mountains. But he’d tucked in crumbs of information that Dis, brother to Thorin and mother to Fili and Kili, would want to hear. There were codes to his word choices, to the number of sentences used. It was not much but Dis read and reread them again, to commit them to her aching heart.

 

Thorin was gravely injured – Dis was almost sure that dragon sickness had had something to do with it, she’d always known, always, that it would continue to strangle her family. It was why she’d never wanted Fili and Kili on Thorin’s foolhardy quest. But they were both of age and Thorin was King and Dis had never publicly spoken against her brother. She had cursed him angrily behind closed doors and had watched her sons leave; sure she would never see them again as they were then. She’d cursed the gold and her brother’s narrow vision - for old stories were not retold as calls for redemption but rather for warning of repeated mistakes. But her brother had only ever heard shame to be removed, a birthright to be reclaimed, a battle to finally win.

 

Her brother, _her brother..._

 

Thorin was gravely injured but he was not dead. Apparently, according to Balin’s sparse codes, Oin had help in Thorin’s healing, someone...close to Thorin? That wasn’t quite right. Someone among the Company, not a dwarf, someone approved of by Balin. And Thorin’s thoughts on this new friend? Hmm, Balin’s silence even in code spoke volumes. Dis’ ridiculous brother, she was going to curse him more when she reached the Mountain.

 

Kili and Fili were badly injured too but Balin was even more hopeful for them. Malhal be praised. Dis pressed a hand to two of the charms woven into her beard, one for each of her sons. Her sons lived, they lived. They had been heroic in battle – rash and courageous, no doubt, one was often mistaken for the other – and they too were being cared for by a new friend. Balin seemed cautiously approving here and well, Dis was going to have a great deal to hear about when she got to Erebor.

 

There was no mention of Dain or his people. Dain could be counted on for support, he had a claim to the throne, true, but he had always thrown support behind Thorin. Those who gathered around him however, they couldn’t all be trusted to do the same. With Thorin, Kili and Fili all recovering, there was a void. Dain wouldn’t fill it until he heard from Dis, unless his supporters found some way to persuade him. And there were Elves and Men, Balin had mentioned their help in the battle that had been waged against the Orcs. There was no mention of treaties or allies though. More of Thorin’s fine work no doubt.

 

Dis ran her fingers over the hair charm that her husband had given her the day they’d wed. She kept Balin’s message safe beneath her armour. Perhaps she shed tears when there was time, for the Durin lives not cruelly snatched from her this time, for all that her family and her people had suffered.

 

There was a knock at the door. Dis called for Haraka to enter and for Brogol, her household scribe to be sent for. Her reply to Balin would be sent the moment the raven that had brought Balin’s message was rested. There was much to be done.

 

*

 

It took many days for Dis and the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains to complete their journey. The scouting party – and the spymaster’s help - returned just as Dis and the others set off. There was much news to sort through – Dale lay in ruins, the Mirkwood Elves were still camped at the foot of the Mountain, even King Thranduil had ventured beyond his borders and had not yet returned to his trees. There were stories of King Thorin barring the Mountain's gates and refusing any entry, of him banishing someone called Bilbo, a creature called a Hobbit that had travelled with Thorin’s company, for stealing the Arkenstone. Dis did not flinch though her insides raged and shook and her heart was sick because this was the mess that came with terrible victory. Her brother was lucky to be beyond her reach. Gold had twisted what was already wounded and look at what had been wrought. Look!

 

Haraka was strong at her back and Dis’s people were looking to her. So she did not falter.

 

She sent several parties ahead to ready camps and scout for any dangers. There were inns that welcomed them and some that didn’t. As the Dwarves travelled, another message flew in from Balin - both Fili and Kili were awake now, Fili was Crown Prince while Thorin still slept. Neither Fili nor Kili were permitted yet to leave the Mountain’s healing rooms. So there would still be certain dwarves circling. Perhaps certain Elves and Men too.

 

Dis did not send messages to her sons. There were some things that should only be said in person.

 

Haraka kept close, and Dis met with her council most nights. A couple of council members had stayed in the Blue Mountains with enough dwarves for it to remain theirs. The Blue Mountains had been home for a very long time. To lose another home, it could not be borne and for some, even stories of Erebor could not tempt them away. The Blue Mountains were all they’d known. Thorin would have ordered all Dwarves to leave for Erebor. Dis had asked only for them to consider life there, to hold the Blue Mountains well and for regular reports to be sent.

 

She stared up at the stars and thought of stories long told to her sons, of how she’d taught them to use the sky as a guide, of a promise she’d extracted from them both of their safe return. She could see Haraka’s silent strong form nearby, on guard as Dis slept. Haraka was sharpening a blade and the sound was a steady comfort, her long black hair like a raven’s wing by firelight. Dis clenched fingers around the charms in her beard and thought again and again that her sons were healing, they were alive, and her brother too was not gone from this world. Her heart was still sick and she was still angry but she slept. She needed to be rested each morning, when Haraka would greet her with bread and meat and water and the camp would be quickly packed away for more journeying onward.

 

After many long days, the mountain appeared ahead of them, quite without warning. The entire enormous company slowed to stare. Dis gazed at it with a dry mouth and unshed tears – this was where so much of her family’s misery lay but it was also their birthright, their home. It had called to Durin’s Dwarves for so many years. Life could have continued without it, happily. Haraka rested a hand against Dis’ shoulder, her own expression revealing similar sentiment.

 

It was some time before Dis moved, “I need messengers.”

 

A couple of young Dwarves quickly stepped forward with neat bows. Brogol, his long braids tucked into his belt, stood at Dis’s elbow, ready with parchment and ink.

 

“A message for King Bard of Dale, greetings from Dis of Durin’s line, Princess of Erebor. My heart grieves for your losses and for wounds made by my brother’s hands. I and my people set forth to Erebor, we will reach Dale within a week. I would speak to you and offer you hands, in treaty and rebuilding. I ask only for assistance in reaching the Mountain.”

 

Brogol wrote the message quickly and neatly and tied it with blue ribbon. Dis entrusted it to the volunteer Dwarves, telling them to be polite but to meet the Man’s gaze, to note how he dealt with his people and with Dwarves.

 

King Bard, according to Balin, was royalty by blood and shamed by his ancestor’s actions. He had never sought the crown. He was a widower and a father and was looked to to lead his people out of darkness now that their world had been destroyed by a dragon and they had been abandoned by the Dwarves. Balin’s estimation was of a good man - he had taken Kili in when he had been infected by an Orc’s arrow – and the makings of a strong leader and worthy ally. Dis would have to work hard to see King Bard become so, undoing her brother’s handiwork, she was quite used to that.

 

From what Dis knew, her sons had not been infected. At least, they hadn’t before the battle had begun. Dis had seen what had happened to her grandfather and had always seen in Thorin’s drive to reclaim Erebor an echo of what had been and what was to come. Thorin was strong but the gold lust in their blood ran stronger.

 

Dis would not regain her sons only to lose them to gold. Malhal, it was too long since she had seen them and her fool brother.

 

The messengers returned several days later with a message of careful acceptance from King Bard. There were some amongst Dis’s company who wished for the Dwarves to make a glorious entrance to Dale as of old. Appropriate perhaps, had the town been standing as it once did.

 

“They live in ruins,” Dis stated before a meeting of representatives, the night before they were to enter Dale. “We would do nothing but worsen the wounds that lie fresh. So we enter as humble friends, we help rebuild what that flying worm destroyed and we march on to Erebor.”

 

Not all were happy but they did not rebel, especially not when they saw Dale. There were some, Dis knew thanks to her spymaster, who believed the Men deserved what had befallen them. Dis had a very close eye kept on such voices. She kept her council varied, full of many different voices, some dissenting. Because if a voice believed it wasn’t heard, it would fight all the harder to gain voice beyond mere acknowledgement. Dis would not see her people splinter and rage against themselves. Her people, she was confident, would not make matters worse beneath the Mountain.

 

There were barges waiting that took Dis, Haraka and her council across the lake, followed by the rest of her people. The Men who guided the barges were highly curious and clearly distrustful but they did not insult their passengers. Dis was sure to pay them and to thank them before setting off into Dale.

 

It was not as stories had once shouted about – grand, prosperous and content. Dis had heard the same tales as Thorin and had passed them into her sons. This Dale was a very different story – one of battle and loss, pain and heart-breaking hardship. It was a story that every Dwarf knew well. Dis did not keep a hand to the sword strapped across her back; Haraka of course had her blades in hand already.

 

In the town square, quite well rebuilt, there were a lot of people waiting. King Bard wore a circlet of deep copper metal – Dis would offer him a crown of Dwarven make, a gift between their races – and simple bargeman clothes and did not look comfortable at all. There was sorrow etched across his brow and strain in the lines of his face but he stood straight-backed and there were no guards with weapons pointing at the Dwarves.

 

Ah and there was Balin beside him, smiling so pleased and looking none the worse for wear. But Dis did not greet him first, as much as she wished to. Instead she bowed to King Bard and smiled. Haraka spoke first, her voice ringing, a proud declaration, not a warning.

 

“Dis, Princess of Erebor and the Blue Mountains, Daughter of Durin’s line, sister to Thorin Oakenshield King Under the Mountain, mother to Crown Prince Fili and Prince Kili.”

 

The crowd that filled the square murmured and whispered. Perhaps Thorin had not given proper greetings. Of course he hadn’t. Well. Dis’s brother and sons were in the Mountain, so close, but she would not retread her family’s mistakes. Fili and Kili would understand and if they didn’t, it was sign enough that Thorin’s influence had become too great.

 

Dis smiled a little more, through the pain of separation, “Greetings to you, King Bard of Dale, and gratitude for your bargemen’s keen work. They’ve received coin for it.”

 

King Bard looked a little taken aback but he inclined his head at least, a good start, “Greetings to you, Princess Dis. I’m sorry you don’t find Dale more hospitable.”

 

There was no mocking, no cruelty in his words. This was a man weighed down and here he was to greet Dis and her people. She nodded.

 

“Apologies that you don’t have to give. Now, half of my people will go onto the Mountain, they’ll need no guide so long as there’s no water in the way.”

 

King Bard’s gaze scanned the crowd of Dwarves, perhaps he was thinking of when Dwarves last walked through Dale, how they had closed the Mountain’s gates behind them. Dis stared steadfast back – her words had been true and not all the Dwarves were leaving for Erebor so quickly. There were some people who in King Bard's place might see it as a chance to take hostages in order to get what they were owed, to return hurt with hurt. What would King Bard do?

 

“The land is dry and hard beyond Dale. They’re welcome to scale it for your Mountain.”

 

Ah. Dis smiled and turned to nod at Haraka who immediately began giving orders. Several Dwarves thanked Dis with bright eyes. The Men of Dale were murmuring again and watching as many Dwarves headed through their streets towards the Mountain. A raven was likely already on its way to Nori from Dis’s spymaster.

 

Dis’s gaze did not linger on the Mountain, she would not let it. There were too many other matters to come first. She would see her sons soon. She would.

 

“You have need of strong hands, my people can help. You’ll find no better blacksmiths or stonemasons. Put them to work. They will toil until more come from the Mountain.”

 

King Bard looked truly surprised, Balin did not. Dis had made sure that all was arranged amongst her people before she had arrived in Dale. There was too much to do. Her actions would shout.

 

“Yes...that is a kindness. If you truly can afford it, we accept of course.”

 

At Dis’s nod, half of the remaining Dwarves stepped forward. They would see the Mountain soon. Being in its shadow was enough for now. King Bard called forward another Man and told him to direct the Dwarves to the smithies and to find stone enough for them to work with. Once the group had left, Dis turned again to King Bard.

 

“Now, I ask only for a meal for myself and my people. We would speak to the Elves and see matters moved forward, for all concerned.”

 

That got another murmur. Balin was grinning now. King Bard nodded though and called forward a young girl, his daughter from the resemblance, with bright curious eyes.

 

“My daughter Tilda, she’ll show you to the hall. It should offer shelter and warmth, such as it is.”

 

“Ah, we ask not for luxury, King Bard. Food for our bellies and time with kin will see us right.”

 

Here, Dis smiled at Balin and he stepped forward to deliver a deep bow, “Your Highness, it does my old eyes good to see you here at last.”

 

Dis stepped closer and laid a hand on his shoulder in proper formal greeting, a gesture that Balin copied, both dipping their heads for a moment before their gazes met.

 

“As good as it does my weary eyes to see you whole, Balin. You have news?”

 

“From the Mountain, from kin. Perhaps you would hear it as you eat? Then you and King Bard could meet further, so as not to hold up the work here.”

 

King Bard was not adverse to this so his daughter Tilda walked excitedly before Dis, leading the group through Dale’s streets, glancing back often, causing Dis to smile. It was many years since she’d seen such a happy daughter of Men.

 

“You’re Fili and Kili’s ma,” Tilda said at last.

 

Dis smiled widely, the pain inside of her, her sick heart – they were so close – spiking and twisting all at once. But this all came first. She nodded.

 

“You know my sons and their mischief no doubt.”

 

“Kili was wounded, we looked after him and Tauriel healed him.”

 

“One of King Thranduil’s Elves,” Balin supplied, his words light but his tone speaking volumes. “She’s King Bard’s second here.”

 

Dis’s eyebrows shot up. She would hear that story first of all. The hall that Tilda showed them to was large and not furnished, unsurprisingly, though the roof was strong and it would hold the remaining group of Dwarves well. Tilda clearly wanted to stay and talk more but admitted her Da had told her to return quickly so as not to disturb the Dwarves. The Dwarves began to set out a camp in the hall, just for a day possibly more, hopefully not.

 

Once Tilda had left, Dis turned to Balin and the pair of them walked into the tent set up for Dis, as much privacy as they’d be granted. The remaining Dwarves were council members, all as sharp with a blade as they were with words. A watch had already been set.

 

“How are they, Balin?”

 

“Fili and Kili drive Oin beyond distraction, wanting to leave the healing rooms. They’re scarred and Kili will limp a while but their spirits are high and still belong here.”

 

Dis touched the charms in her beard once more, something stronger than pain brewing through her. Her boys were safe and well. She took a few deep breaths; Balin had seen her far worse – throwing a pan or two at Thorin, for example. Now, Balin looked only kind and tired himself. No doubt he’d been leading the council under the Mountain while the sons of Durin healed. Well, that would change now.

 

“And Thorin?”

 

“He sleeps still. Oin believes his spirit’s wandering a fair bit but he doesn’t think Thorin has left us.”

 

Good. Good. Dis sat down heavily. That was all she could grip to for now. Her people needed her, from the Blue Mountains and Erebor, before further ruin and dissent was caused.

 

“Dain still refuses the throne?”

 

“Mmm, he’d rather ride that pig of his and be a worse influence on Kili,” replied Bain, sitting opposite Dis. “Some of his people though. Aye, they see this as a rare opportunity. Oin thinks there might have been medicines stolen.”

 

Dis' hands became hard fists, how would fewer medicines affect her boys? But Balin had not said her boys were dying or in danger and first, first, an alliance with Dale, a kingdom that could supply the Mountain in exchange for equal help. It needed to be approached before it was entirely out of their grasp. King Bard, Dis was quite sure, would be a good ally. And other matters...

 

“The She-Elf.”

 

There was a particular twinkle in Balin’s eyes that told Dis a great deal. “She’s been banished from the Mirkwood, for wanting to help beyond its borders. She healed Kili of an Orc’s poison and he’s been holding her in wild affection since she first pointed a bow at him.”

 

Dis smiled slightly – remembering Frerin’s affections wandering to all kinds of Dwarves that their father had never found suitable and as for Dis’s own choice of husband, her father had been set on not forgiving her, until she’d produced sons. Dis would never understand Elves, the fact that her son was apparently mooning over one was not a pleasant shock and yet in this place, where Erebor was reclaimed by Durin’s line and her brother lived despite dragon sickness, well, it was a place for such world-shaking surprises. Dis was going to have a long talk with both her sons. If nothing else, the She-Elf had saved Kili’s life.

 

“See that she attends the meeting with King Bard.”

 

Balin nodded with that same twinkle, which sobered a bit as he continued, “She’s not been in the Mountain since the battle. Many in Erebor don’t wish for a single Elf there.”

 

Understandable but it would have to be remedied. King Thranduil, usually unseen beyond his beloved greenery, hadn’t moved from the slopes of the Mountain. It was likely he’d ask for even more payment from Erebor now. Thranduil made Dis’s skin prickle, he looked so far down at Dwarves, as though being beneath the earth made them lesser. And he had hurt the Dwarves beyond measure when he had not joined the fight so many years ago. But Dis would speak with him; she would treaty with him because she would not see that hurt again, not while she had strength and chance to prevent it. That was what mattered most.

 

Balin took his leave then, giving Dis privacy to change clothing and don a beautifully-wrought circlet studded with deep blue gems. It had been a present from her husband. She ran fond fingers across it before touching her beard charms once more. It was getting to become a habit and would likely stay one until she saw her sons again.

 

Haraka entered the tent at Dis’s request. Haraka did not look resentful to be in Dale – she always carried out her duties without complaint, she had been Dis’s second for so long now it was her life – but she did not look happy either.

 

“You think we’re threatened?” Dis guessed, buckling a bracelet around her own wrist.

 

Haraka shook her head slowly, “I think this place does not truly welcome us. There’s been word already, of what King Thorin promised and did not deliver.”

 

Dwarven spies threaded Dale’s streets, good. And Dis was not surprised. Her brother’s single-mindedness about Erebor had meant he would have surely promised the world if it had meant entering the Mountain again, with no intention of fulfiling his promises.

 

“But King Bard will meet with us and we will treaty with him,” Dis replied simply, because it was the only way forward. “They could starve every Dwarf out of the Mountain if they so wished. Our people were allies before; it must be that way again.”

 

“And the Elves?”

 

Dis smiled sharply, “Have all reasons for Thranduil’s continued presence found.”

 

Because if there was a solid reason, beyond payment, for Thranduil’s stubbornness, Dis would find it and use it. She would give Thranduil no excuse to shun the Dwarves once more.

 

Haraka’s smile was small but sharp. She left to carry out Dis’s orders while Dis sat down, to take deep breaths of cool air, to think on the fact that her sons and her brother were not many wingspans away. There were Elves and Men who no doubt resented her brother and Dwarves who were rejoicing in the return of their lauded home and did not care for much else. She missed Stird, her beloved, with a pain that was as sharp as the day he’d fallen. She missed her mother and her father, their voices and their wisdom. She missed Frerin and Thorin.

 

And there was noise beyond the tent – Men had arrived with food and King Bard was present as well. They were to eat here apparently, ceding to Dis’s territory? Dis smiled to herself. She could see herself liking King Bard.

 

Haraka appeared at the entrance of the tent, “King Bard is here, Majesty.”

 

Dis got to her feet and dropped her shoulders. Haraka nodded at what she saw, though her eyes were concerned and reassuring. Dis patted Haraka’s arm as she passed her second, there was time for that later. Haraka didn’t disagree.

 

In the hall, a large table was being set up and covered with generous food in what was likely a very scarce time. King Bard was talking to Balin and there was a tall red-headed Elf who Dis assumed was Tauriel. She was not clad in armour but there were two fine swords and a quiver of arrows on her back and a bow in her hand. There was genuinely respectful curiosity on her face when she looked towards Dis. Well, that was unusual for an Elf.

 

“Ah, your Highness,” Balin dipped his head again. “All lies well here?”

 

Dis stepped forward to take a seat at the table, the other Dwarves left at a nod from Haraka, to guard the hall.

 

“It does, Balin. And thank you, King Bard, it’s generous to share when your people are without so much.”

 

King Bard looked slightly surprised again but sat down beside Dis when indicated to by Balin who sat on Dis’s other side. Tauriel stood at King Bard’s shoulder, Haraka was eyeing her very astutely. Dis concentrated on King Bard for now.

 

“Your surprise tells me that my brother did not show great manners here,” Dis said bluntly, as she tore a hunk of bread in half and handed a piece back to Haraka.

 

King Bard observed the interaction and glanced briefly at Balin and Haraka, at the backs of the Dwarven guards who were focused more on what could enter the hall than what was occurring in it. It was as though King Bard was wondering why she’d spoken in such a way about their king in front of them. Dis gestured, the colours of her thick rings flashing in the light.

 

“They have heard me say worse. How will they council me if they don’t hear my troubles?”

 

Balin chuckled, as well he would. He was one of the few counsellors that Thorin actually listened to.

 

“Thorin Oakenshield has thought of little but regaining the Mountain lost to our family,” Dis continued. “A family blighted by dragon sickness. This brought tragedy before and so it has been again. I nearly lost my sole kin, brother and sons both. You fought beside my brother, perhaps this saved their lives. For that, you have my greatest thanks.”

 

King Bard seemed to consider all of this before speaking, his brow furrowed. “Then you should save your greatest thanks for the hobbit, Bilbo Baggins. He came down from the Mountain to buy peace, though it hurt him deep to do it.”

 

Here King Bard placed a cloth-wrapped parcel on the table. The glow from it was unmistakable. Dis’s heart beat hard in her throat – this Bilbo had taken the Arkenstone and had used it to try and buy peace from Elves and Men. The Arkenstone. It made Dis shiver to look at it, a hate far greater than any great calling connection she felt to it. The decision was an easy one.

 

“Keep it, King Bard of Dale. It’s well you have that payment for the battle won.”

 

During the journey from the Blue Mountains, there had been many discussions into the night about what to do with the Arkenstone. Dis remembered too well how it had possessed her grandfather, how a search for it had doomed her father and how only recently it had wounded her brother. It would not touch her sons. There were gold and jewels enough in Erebor, a danger in itself.

 

King Bard looked at her, “For this, your brother barred the way in and out of the Mountain and threw aside a friend. Yet you are willing to see it given to a Man.”

 

“You have seen what dragon fever does to a Durin. I will not see it happen again, not to my sons. Take the Arkenstone, King Bard, and choose wisely who possesses it.”

 

Dis’s voice had risen slightly and she felt such anger at that hunk of rock, at what it had wrought on her family. King Bard slowly withdrew the stone and returned to wherever he had previously kept it out of view. Dis let out a breath and felt Balin nod beside her. She had his support; it would be useful when relaying the news to Thorin. Haraka pressed a hand to Dis’s shoulder, a hand that Dis covered with her own.

 

The Elf was looking at them, her brow slightly pinched, something filling her gaze. There was more expression in her face than Dis had ever witnessed in any other Elf. Dis tucked into the meal for a while longer, it had been some time since she had eaten so well and such fresh food. She made sure that Haraka ate too; her second was masterly at ensuring that Dis ate well and Dis was just as masterly at seeing her second well cared for.

 

“I would see our peoples aligned,” Dis said at last, her plate clear of food and her cup empty. “Dale and Erebor will only benefit from such a tie. It was so before, it can be again, despite my brother’s actions. You have been paid in full as you were due.”

 

King Bard nodded at this, not surprised by her suggestion. So it was likely that either he had been considering it – unlikely after Thorin’s behaviour – or perhaps someone had suggested it, like Balin. He did not want to see the Dwarves turn inward and dry or bloody out. He saw that treaties could give Erebor fresh breath and help steady it towards a bright and continual future. As Erebor was theirs once again, Dis would do what she could for her people, for the home reclaimed she had never sought. Perhaps ghosts could be driven out, rather than possessing those that strode onward. She would build a future for her sons and for those that came after.

 

“This will not take quickly,” King Bard said at last. “There’s much distrust between here and the Mountain.”

 

“But you agree to the idea.”

 

King Bard nodded briefly, “If Dale’s to survive greater than it did these past years, it will need allies. But on terms that won’t see us under any heel.”

 

“That we can agree for both our peoples.”

 

Dis held out her hand and after a moment, King Bard grasped it, adjusting his grip when Dis clasped his elbow in a warrior’s agreement. She looked firm in his eyes, one parent, one leader to another, and thought that she saw his recognition also.

 

King Bard released her arm, still looking quite drained. How long had it been since he had rested? He did not seem the kind to sit back as others worked in his stead. She wondered how his council had taxed him about this. There was something quite Dwarven about that.

 

People appeared to clear away plates and cups. Dis retrieved her pipe from a pocket and offered her pouch of pipeweed to King Bard before offering it to Balin who quite gratefully accepted.

 

“We’ll need a fine trade on that as a priority,” he commented.

 

Dis agreed, lighting her pipe with a soft sigh. King Bard was talking with a slim girl in a stained apron, the look about her eyes marked her as another of King Bard's daughters. She was piling up bowls to place on a tray and Tauriel was looking at her if not in fondness then with an echo of it.

 

Dis cocked her head and King Bard stilled his daughter, nodding her gaze towards Dis, “My eldest, Sigrid.”

 

Sigrid bobbed in a curtsey and smiled a little through her clear tiredness, “Your Majesty.”

 

Dis smiled with pleasure amid her pipe smoke. Here was a princess of Dale, clearly working hard for her people. Not a warrior perhaps but King Bard’s daughter indeed.

 

“If you prepared this food, you have my thanks, for the preparation and the generosity in giving it,” Dis told her.

 

Sigrid’s smile grew a little, “Thank you, Your Majesty. It’s not much but it’s freely given, as thanks for what your people are doing for us now, in rebuilding.”

 

Ah, kindly spoken indeed. Balin spoke up then, “How’re the lads doing, lassie? Oin was ready to rout them both last I saw.”

 

Sigrid shook her head, something affectionate in her expression, “They’re still healing but they don’t like the confinement.”

 

Dis’s gaze lit up – Fili and Kili. “You’ve been helping in the Mountain.”

 

Sigrid nodded and Balin explained, “There’s some from Dale kind enough to give aid. Sigrid saw a need for laundry and offered to help.”

 

Sigrid had lowered her eyes slightly but her father looked quietly proud and Dis could see why, “If none have said it, girl, thank you for the help you’ve extended to my people.”

 

Sigrid nodded her head and began to lift the tray again, her mind clearly set on work ahead of her. Her father spoke to her quietly and Dis exchanged a glance with Balin, yes, he saw what Dis did – a strong bloodline. It was reassuring to see Dale in such good hands.

 

“Now I would speak with the She-Elf that’s entranced my son.”

 

Tauriel looked as though she’d heard a threat though Balin grinned to the point of laughing. Dis got to her feet and gestured for Tauriel to follow.

 

“Come along, girl. We haven’t many hours until your king arrives.”

 

Tauriel exchanged a glance with King Bard and then started to follow slowly, “He took that honour from me some weeks ago.”

 

Dis eyed her, “He hasn’t stopped being your king simply because he’s banished you. If he thinks otherwise, he’s grown even more foolish. King Bard, please send word when King Thranduil arrives.”

 

There was a glimmer of something in King Bard’s gaze that Dis took immediate note of. Affection, concern, conflict? Was the Man aware of any of it? Dis was. It would help.

 

Balin walked with King Bard out of the hall as Dis led Tauriel across the hall and into her tent, Haraka close behind. Tauriel stood as though expecting inspection by her commander. That was a pertinent question.

 

“What rank did you hold, in Mirkwood?”

 

“Captain of the Guard, Your Highness.”

 

Ah, so she was skilled enough in battle to hold such a high rank. Dis nodded. “And now you stand as King Bard’s second.”

 

Tauriel’s expression could have been a frown. “His...second.”

 

Dis took a seat and gestured towards Haraka, “A personal guard, to shadow my steps and ensure none seek to harm me. I have fought wars since I was younger than Kili but I am of royal blood and so I have a second.”

 

Tauriel seemed to digest this idea, “King Bard has not bestowed such position on me.”

 

“But it’s what you’ve been doing anyway. I’m sure he needs it, he’s a good Man and many will seek to usurp him in the years to come, especially once we have treaties placed with him and the Elves.”

 

Here Dis smiled slightly, deliberate mischief overtaking her, “Perhaps you will be second to my son.”

 

Tauriel’s eyes widened and she did not seem to know what to say. An Elf flummoxed by a Dwarf, it would be a fine story to tell Thorin, when he started making noise about never working hand in hand with the Elven race.

 

“I’ve heard of his affection for you,” Dis said at last. “I’ve not spoken to him yet, or seen him even, so I have not heard his thoughts. But what lies with you?”

 

There was something warm in Tauriel’s face, hers was not the rigid blankness of so many Elves that Dis had talked to. There was no hint of the patronising or dismissiveness Dis had faced before and heard even worse tales of. Tauriel looked...perhaps fond was the word, maybe wondering and curious. Well, that was something indeed. Perhaps she felt compelled to be truthful, perhaps King Bard had asked it of her before meeting with Dis. It could explain Tauriel's next words.

 

“We talked scarce few moments,” she said quietly. “But I...I wanted to talk to him more, to seek his company.”

 

“If you truly do seek his company, you’ll find his affection a hard thing to shake. He’ll not hold back if he pines for you. Dwarves seek deep roots.”

 

Tauriel withdrew something from a pouch on her belt. “He gave me this.”

 

She held out a very familiar smooth pebble, carved with runes. Dis’s breath caught in her throat and she touched the stone. Now it was Kili who had loosed an action that shouted.

 

Her Kili. Not quite grown up but truly seeking that way.

 

Dis managed a smile, “His promise to return to me. And perhaps to you also.”

 

She closed Tauriel’s fine fingers around the stone and patted her hand firmly. “You return this to him when you see him next. I’ll see you into the Mountain with me; King Bard needs an envoy to Erebor.”

 

She released Tauriel’s hand and watched Tauriel’s fingers cradle the stone before tucking it safely away once more. Well then, her son had fallen for an Elf, one who had persisted in helping Men and who seemed touched by something fond for Kili in return. It was a start. And an Elven bride would ensure ties to Mirkwood, whether Thranduil had banished her or not. Tauriel would attend Dis's meeting with King Thranduil, if King Bard attended too. Thrandu face would be a delight.

 

“Elves live longer lives than Dwarves,” Dis said abruptly. “You’ll not have him for long in comparison. So if this is to be your choice, do not waste time, girl.”

 

It was warning enough and Tauriel read it as such, her back straightening and her nod sharp and understanding. Good. Now.

 

“Take a seat, I’d hear of your king and why you’ve left his employ.”

 

Tauriel’s eyes saddened but she sat obediently and revealed the disobedience of her king’s orders, how she had later confronted him with notched arrow and how he had dismissed her feelings, how Kili had taken grievous wounds to save her life.

 

“King Bard gave me a new bow,” Tauriel related. “And told me I was welcome, that Dale would always have use of warriors and those that protected children such as his.”

 

Ah. So King Bard believed that there would be battles to come and would see his children safe. And he’d not see someone with Tauriel’s talents forced to leave. Kili had been hurt, dragged close to death perhaps, to save this Elf. A foolish decision but he had always leapt with his heart first.

 

“You are welcome here, Tauriel of Dale,” Dis told her firmly. “I’m sure Kili will heal better having seen you again.”

 

Dis would keep the She-Elf close to know her better, though she approved of what she found – loyalty, kindness, strength, conviction. She had not blindly followed her king, she had thought beyond Mirkwood’s borders. She had sacrificed and lost but she had won a place here in Dale also. That was enough for Dis to approve of Tauriel seeing Kili again. After that, they would see.

 

Tauriel dipped her head deeply. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

 

There was something in her voice, some slight tone that demonstrated her true gratitude. Dis smiled, she could sense Haraka’s slight disapproval. And wasn’t that an idea?

 

“When did you last practice with those swords of yours?” she asked Tauriel. “Haraka has great skill with her blade. I’ve not yet seen a Man match a Dwarf or an Elf for skill yet.”

 

Haraka stirred behind Dis, unsheathing the blades always carried at her hips. Tauriel glanced behind Dis, no doubt seeing a short broad-shouldered broad-hipped warrior, clad in leather armour. Did Tauriel dismiss such a figure? She would not know that the charms woven into Haraka’s hair represented the great battles she’d been victorious in, that one of the reasons Haraka had been first chosen as Dis’s second was because of how powerful her sword blows were. Dis would get to know more of Tauriel. Dwarves always learned a lot during battle.

 

“No intent to wound,” Dis stated, because this could be read as a threat or a trap surely.

 

“Sworn,” replied Haraka with a nod.

 

Tauriel nodded, something like determination and anticipation in her face. So Dis led them out of the tent – the table had been cleared away with the dishes and there was plenty of space in the hall – and watched as Dwarf and Elf touched blades and began. Tauriel did not strike first and Haraka only swung her left sword as a test. It was not long before the sound of metal on metal filled the hall though and Dis watched as they feinted and circled, magnificent combinations of strength and skill. Haraka was annoyed by how fast the Elf was but Tauriel was not overwhelming her, finding Haraka’s skill with the Dwarven swords an equal to her Elven blades. They pushed each other but kept to their word – no blood was shed, no wound was given.

 

They were still fighting when Balin arrived to announce that King Thranduil had arrived. Tauriel and Haraka both slowed and stopped at his voice. Dis applauded and Haraka bowed to her and then inclined her head towards Tauriel, a gesture of respect that caused a fond expression to form across Dis’s face. Tauriel nodded to Haraka in return and nodded towards Dis. Respect being given by an Elf to a Dwarf.

 

Balin looked quite pleased by what he’d seen, “I’d give a fair chunk of my share of gold to see King Thranduil witness such a sight. King Bard waits with him not far from here.”

 

Dis clasped Haraka’s arm with both hands, “Thank you.”

 

Haraka’s smile was a flicker but meant for Dis to see. She had enjoyed herself, as Dis had hoped. Tauriel was stowing her own blades across her back, her appearance not unkempt at all despite her exertions. A peculiar Elven gift. She walked beside Haraka as the little group left the hall, the guards remaining to ensure all was as it should be. Dis smiled inwardly; let the Men of Dale see this and let new stories grow.

 

“Bilbo,” she said to Balin.

 

Balin smiled, “Our Hobbit and burglar. So his stories are being told.”

 

He explained Bilbo Baggins’ employment as a burglar, to gain the wretched Arkenstone – of course first in Thorin’s thoughts, how Bilbo had seemed so ill-suited to the role but had shown continual courage, saving Dwarven lives more than once and talking to Thorin, addled by gold or otherwise, in a way that had certainly gained much reaction.

 

“He was banished for his parlay with Elves and Men,” Dis surmised, recalling King Bard’s words.

 

Balin looked sad and grim but his smile broke through a moment later, “A cruel decision reversed by Crown Prince Fili once he awoke under the Mountain. And now Bilbo Baggins nurses Thorin as best he can. Oin won’t let another near the King.”

 

It seemed as though most of Dis’s kin were finding partners in unexpected places. Balin’s expression said everything that Dis needed to know – he approved of and liked Bilbo immensely.

 

“When Thorin believed himself dying, he asked only to speak to Bilbo.”

 

Ah ha. Dis smiled, “And I will speak to Mr Baggins once I visit the Mountain.”

 

“Your Highness.”

 

Thorin had always hated it when Balin and Dis had been in accord, which was often. He was wrong of course, they were able to achieve much when views were so aligned. One more meeting and Dis would be able to see her sons, one more meeting. She would not rush it; she could not, no matter how sick her heart was, how greatly the pain of distance and kin still twisted at her.

 

King Bard waited for them in a large building that was almost entirely whole. King Thranduil had not insisted on meeting in his tents, his territory. There were a couple of guards that flanked him where he sat. He did not stand to receive Dis, of course not. Dis nodded to King Bard who had stood. Haraka spoke first once more.

 

“Dis, Princess of Erebor and the Blue Mountains, Daughter of Durin’s line, sister to Thorin Oakenshield King Under the Mountain, mother to Crown Prince Fili and Prince Kili.”

 

Neither of King Thranduil’s guards spoke, as though Dis was not worthy of receiving such an address about King Thranduil. Dis’s feelings on such an affront stayed banked and simmering, her expression pleasant with flinty eyes. She would not be accused of affront of any kind. Instead she sat opposite the Elven King, Balin sitting beside her, Haraka standing at her shoulder while Tauriel stood similarly behind King Bard.

 

King Thranduil’s gaze flickered to her once and once more. Good.

 

“King Thranduil of Mirkwood.” Dis would say it even if the Elf wouldn’t. “Thank you for what you and your people did in this last battle. I have not lost son or brother and for that I am grateful.”

 

King Thranduil gave no hint of surprise nor did he incline his head but he did answer, “And still I am yet to receive that which is mine by right.”

 

“What would that be?”

 

Balin explained, “King Thranduil desires jewels, Your Highness, named the White Gems of Lasgalen.”

 

More gemstones causing great damage. It was unlikely they were of the same kind of value as the Arkenstone was to Thorin. So, jewels that were of value to an Elf. What did they represent? Who had they belonged to before they’d come to lie in the Mountain? Dis thought of the gems that hung in her beard and hair.

 

She turned to Balin, “Can these gemstones be located?”

 

He nodded, his expression not revealing what he thought about her question. Well, Dis was not going to give King Thranduil any reason to lock himself away should Dis’s people lie dying again. She nodded back.

 

“Have them brought to Crown Prince Fili. I will discuss with him what shall be done.”

 

King Thranduil held her gaze, “And what would the Princess of Erebor ask for in return?”

 

Dis smiled ever so slightly, “Only a treaty between our peoples and Men, for when aid is needed, it is given. A treaty that King Bard has already agreed to.”

 

King Bard, Dis noticed, had a rather guarded look about him and the way he was looking at Thranduil...well, well. She gave no indication that she'd noticed anything strange however. There was time enough for that.

 

“I will have the gemstones, then perhaps there might be...discussion.”

 

It was no real give at all - discussion did not mean agreement or even listening - but King Bard still looked surprised; Thranduil was steadfast in keeping his gaze away from the King of Dale. Another glimmer. How very useful. Dis inclined her head.

 

“It will be done. I will see my sons first in the Mountain. Then we shall meet again.”

 

She got to her feet, King Bard echoing her movement. His respect was not smoothly given but it was genuine. Dis bowed her head to him.

 

“King Bard, I thank you for all you’ve given me this day. I will rest in Dale before setting foot towards Erebor tomorrow. And King Thranduil, word will be given to you once my son has decided on the matter. Tauriel.”

 

She indicated for the Elf Captain to follow her, it would be a good moment to leave King Thranduil and King Bard to talk. Tauriel inclined her head towards both Kings, her expression taut, and then followed Dis and Haraka out of the building and back towards the hall. Balin did not linger either.

 

“I’ll away to the Mountain with news,” he said to Dis a good pace or two from meeting place. “And make ready your welcome for tomorrow.”

 

He still did not give opinion of her choice to hand a clutch of gemstones to an Elf that her brother deeply loathed. Dis was quite sure she would hear of it once she was in the Mountain and talking to Fili. She only hoped he still possessed more of his parents' sense than his uncle's far-reaching prejudices.

 

As Balin left, Tauriel lingered at the entrance to the hall, perhaps unsure of what her place was here. Dis removed her circlet, handing it to Haraka, and retrieved her pipe. It had been an involving day. There had been many days travel and even before that, it had been some time since Dis had been called upon to negotiate and weave such alliances out of trying painful circumstances. She sat down outside of her private tent and gestured for Tauriel to sit as she wished.

 

“I assume you do not claim a pipe? So fletch arrows or sharpen a sword, whatever brings you peace in these times.”

 

Tauriel paused a moment and then produced a whetting stone from her belt and unbuckled the swords from her back. Haraka was working on her Dwarven blade, though one eye was kept on Dis and Tauriel. Dis smiled at her.

 

There was silence a while as they all rested, in activity and stillness. Dis had a grand view of the Mountain and of course thought about her sons and Thorin. They were alive and were practically within reach. But Dis would not cut through a new treaty so hastily by leaving immediately. She was sure there were Men here in Dale who would advise King Bard to turn his back on Erebor after all that had come to pass. So she would show them Dwarven manners and strength, how an alliance would benefit all.

 

“You will come with me tomorrow,” she told Tauriel. “To the Mountain.”

 

Tauriel dipped her head in acknowledgement and seemed to hesitate a moment before speaking, “Will your son release the White Gems of Lasgalen to King Thranduil?”

 

Dis made a considering noise around her pipe stem. “Despite what you may have seen here and during battle, Fili has long been wise and suited as Crown Prince. He should see the right of it. And if he doesn’t, we will find another way to bind the Elves to compassion and treaty, and a quick journey home.”

 

Haraka likely heard the quiet satisfaction in Dis’s tone because her smile was broad. Tauriel noticed but did not offer comment. Dis didn’t find her company disagreeable, another useful glimmer. Dis already held a handful to braid, the way Thorin should have done.

 

Tomorrow, she would gather more. Tomorrow she would see her sons.

 

*

 

The day started early. Haraka woke Dis before assisting the guards in packing up their make-shift camp. Dis left her tent, clad in the rust and blood colours of her line, her thick fur cloak pinned at her shoulder. Her armour was packed away for now, for she was not marching to the Mountain in a show of strength. Beads clicked in her hair and beard and her circlet was fitted across her brow. She wore no gold in her jewellery, an obvious pointed choice.

 

Tauriel was stood watching the Dwarves work quickly and bowed her head towards Dis, “King Bard has sent food to start your day.”

 

There were crates just beyond her; no Men had stayed with them of course. Dis smiled though and indicated for her guards to unpack the crates and share out the food. There was plenty of fish and some good bread. It was more kindness from King Bard, giving more even as his people suffered. Dis ate breakfast, offering some to Tauriel who took a hunk of bread and butter. She was wearing green again, her red hair smooth and partly braided back, her eyes always watching and observing.

 

King Bard arrived as the Dwarves finished eating, their small camp ready for transport.

 

“Your people are still working alongside mine. I thank you for it,” he told her.

 

Dis smiled slightly; of course the Dwarves were working hard. They knew Dis would be sending relief for them as soon as she could, that day if possible, so that they could enter Erebor at last too.

 

“Thank you for the food and welcome. I’ll return Captain Tauriel to you; she’ll speak for Elves and Men both.”

 

Tauriel did not look surprised at this and King Bard saw something in her expression that caused him to nod. Dis offered her hand again which King Bard grasped easily.

 

“Lead your people, King Bard, love your family. We will meet again soon.”

 

King Bard’s grip was firm and let go after a respectful moment. “I hope your people greet you well and that Erebor is what you’re wanting.”

 

Dis’s laughter was sharp, “My only hope is that my sons and brother continue to live. One mountain is as any other.”

 

*

 

The journey to the Mountain was swift and soon Dis could see the Dwarves waiting at Erebor’s gates, her heart twisting and lighter than it had been in many days. The Dwarves behind her did not push her forward, no matter how rapidly they wished to enter the Mountain. They only matched her pace.

 

A number of her spies remained in Dale and Laketown. Her spymaster was among those that travelled with her to Erebor. Dis would be kept well-informed about both Men and Elves.

 

Tauriel kept silent at Dis’s shoulder, she seemed to wait like the Dwarves on Dis’s instruction. How did she feel, approaching a Dwarven Mountain? The stronghold of a King who had likely declared her an enemy when deep in his dragon sickness?

 

Balin, Dwalin and Dain were there to greet Dis and her party in an official capacity, though there were many other Dwarves present. Dis smiled under the scrutiny; her sons were beyond all of this.

 

“Welcome, Dis of Durin’s line, Princess of Erebor and the Blue Mountains, sister to King Thorin Under the Mountain, mother to Crown Prince Fili and Prince Kili,” said Balin, his voice projecting loud enough to be heard by all.

 

Dis smiled and offered her hand, “Greetings, Balin. Thank you for the welcome.”

 

Balin smiled and bowed neatly. Dwalin clasped Dis’s arm, his grip as strong as ever. He’d acquired new tattoos and scars, as was his habit, and his grin told her he was pleased to see her, though his gaze was hard when it landed on Tauriel.

 

Dis greeted her cousin last, with a wide smile. “Greetings, Dain of the Iron Hills. You’ve left Mountain enough for me then.”

 

“For now, cousin,” Dain grinned and clasped her arm heartily. “But there will be feasting tonight.”

 

Dis laughed and turned to her people, to those behind her and those that had made their home in the Mountain already. “Thank you for your loyal service, on this road and in the Blue Mountains.”

 

She nodded towards Erebor and her Dwarves eagerly began to pour into the Mountain until only Haraka and Tauriel remained with her. Dis turned to Balin.

 

“There’s Dwarves in Dale that need relieving in their building.”

 

“Aye, a company is being sent.”

 

Of course Balin had it arranged. Well then. Dis’s insides squeezed hard. She would see her sons.

 

“Then lead on, I have kin to visit and a King to greet.”

 

There was a roar from the Erebor Dwarves that were watching and Dis, Tauriel and Haraka followed Balin and Dwalin into the Mountain. It was as beautifully carved as Dis remembered hearing of. It would be home now but Dis doubted she’d ever forget how her grandfather had been murdered here, how her father had gone mad with grief and had left both this and them. She would love it for her family and for her people but the blood of her kin would never cease staining its walls.

 

“Why are you bringing the She-Elf in here?” Dwalin wanted to know once they were inside one of the smaller halls and away from prying eyes and ears.

 

Dis unpinned her cloak and fixed Dwalin with a hard look to match his own. Sometimes, she thought, her brother’s hard-headedness was only made worse by Dwalin’s. He was an excellent second but his beliefs erred on the side of distrusting all but Dwarves. Not a theory that had worked well in the past or more recently.

 

Tauriel did not flinch away from Dwalin’s gaze, in truth she looked mostly blank and expressionless, a true Elf. But Dis could sense tension in her, perhaps because she had spent time enough Tauriel to read around the particular Elven blankness that Tauriel was consumed by more strongly now that she was in the Mountain.

 

“She saved Kili’s life,” Dis replied. “She’s second to Bard of Laketown and has right enough to visit my son. As she will be with me and Haraka, I can’t see what she’ll do to bring the Mountain tumbling down around us.”

 

Balin chuckled, earning a glare from his brother which he was unaffected by. “A visit might stop the lad moping or encourage more but I’m sure Oin will be grateful for the kill or cure.”

 

As though Dis was going to be stopped. She left the hall, guided by Balin himself to where the healing rooms were. Kili and Fili were being kept in a room together, Haraka and Tauriel waited outside as Dis took a breath and pushed open the door.

 

Oin was talking loudly to Fili, who was sat up on a mattress, his face heavily scared, his hair badly in need of rebraiding. But there was brightness in his eyes and he was laughing, teasing Oin no doubt. Kili was lying down, more heavily injured according to Balin, but he was moving and his voice was clear. Dis’s heart swooped – of course she had heard that they lived, that they were healing but to actually see them was an entirely different matter. Her sons were here, alive despite their uncle’s enormous foolishness. They were here.

 

And so was Sigrid, sat beside Fili’s bed, sorting through clean bandages. Had she washed them as she did the laundry?

 

Oin spotted Dis first and bowed, “Your Highness.”

 

“Mum!”

 

Kili and Fili exclaimed together and Kili tried to move but was held back by Oin while Fili swung his legs off the bed and stood up without any wobble at all. Dis’s heart overflowed and she wrapped her arms around him first, careful not to squeeze too tight, despite how much she wanted to.

 

“Thank Mahal,” she murmured, pulling back to cup Fili’s face between her palms. “You’re sleeping?”

 

Fili’s expression creased and there were shades in it Dis didn’t like much. “Most nights.”

 

He was having a few nightmares no doubt. Dis touched his face, the scars that marked them now, and noted the run of bright jewels in his hair, announcing him as Crown Prince. Fili’s smile was only slightly rueful; yes he was fitting into the role well, wasn’t he?

 

“There’s a lot to talk about,” Dis told him, tapping a finger against one of the jewels before stepping close to Kili’s bed. “Lie back.”

 

She bent over his form to hug him, even more careful than she had been with Fili. Her eyes prickled a little but she blinked the tears away for now. It wasn’t the time. Her sons both lived. Kili clung to her in a way that told many stories. Dis took a seat beside his bed and wrapped a hand around his, Fili perching on the edge of Kili’s mattress.

 

“I’m sorry for their trouble, Oin,” Dis told the healer.

 

Oin dipped his head. “Fili’s well enough to leave to take royal quarters.”

 

“They belong to the King,” Fili replied firmly, with the air of someone who’d said this before, many times. “And Kee needs me.”

 

Kili didn’t disagree. The two of them had always been inseparable and it likely helped keep Kili settled if Fili was there, talking him into lying still and drinking whatever Oin handed him. Still, Fili would need some sort of royal chambers eventually.

 

“There must be apartments close to those for the King,” Dis suggested. “Fit enough for royalty?”

 

Oin nodded, “There’s a few fine apartments that would suit right. I’ll have Gloin and Bofur ready them.”

 

Satisfied, Dis looked over towards Sigrid who was finishing up her bandage work. The skin of her hands was cracked and sore-looking – not something Dis had noted when meeting the girl before - and there were tired marks under her eyes but she didn’t look as though she was readying for rest.

 

“I hope my sons have shown gratitude, Sigrid,” Dis voiced pointedly.

 

Fili smiled warmly at King Bard's daughter while Kili grinned easily towards her, “She doesn’t give us a chance, always rushing off with laundry and sewing. And she’s seeing to Dale too.”

 

Sigrid lowered her gaze briefly, her face pinking slightly. She was organising both? To see that Dwarves and Men were kept clothed and no doubt warmer, perhaps even healthier? It was a great deal for a young girl to shoulder but she was doing so. Dis smiled at her; there was that strong bloodline again.

 

“I think there should be a feast, a celebration of the accord between our peoples. See if your father’s agreeable.”

 

Sigrid nodded and got to her feet, leaving the basket of clean bandages behind. “I will, Your Highness, thank you.”

 

She took her leave with smiling goodbyes at Oin, Fili and Kili. Oin followed her out while Fili’s gaze on her was friendly and companionable. Not a glimmer yet perhaps but something that could still be used. Dis would discuss the matter with Balin later but for now, she would talk to her sons.

 

“Bard agrees to an alliance between Erebor and Dale. We’re working towards an accord with the Elves.”

 

Fili looked surprised. “How?”

 

“There are gems the King of Mirkwood would have, his story is that he's owed them but they were locked within Erebor by Dwarves.”

 

Fili and Kili both frowned but neither jumped immediately to their line’s defence. Apparently the sight of their uncle rich with dragon sickness had made an impression. Dis felt hope and gladness swell within her. She squeezed Kili’s hand affectionately as she turned towards her eldest.

 

“I have told Thranduil I will look to locate the gems and discuss them with you before we talk again.”

 

Fili nodded thoughtfully. “He wants only the gems? Nothing more? No other demands?”

 

Dis smiled sharply, “All he’s asked for is the gems. He’s agreed to perhaps talk once we retrieve them, to discuss a treaty between Elves, Men and Dwarves.”

 

Kili laughed suddenly into the subsequent considering silence, “Uncle is going to wake right up once he hears that. Can’t you imagine the look on his face?”

 

Fili laughed quietly too and fiddled with several of the rings that decorated his fingers, one of them had belonged to his grandfather. “If we find the gems the Elf King wants, it gives us leverage.”

 

“It does,” agreed Dis, proud of how her son was thinking, seeing a larger picture than merely the long-simmering troubles between Dwarves and Elves.

 

“So we find them,” concluded Fili.

 

Dis smiled broadly. Erebor would be as stable as possible, they would build deep roots. King Thranduil would have no excuse to continue turning his back on the Dwarves of Erebor or indeed their allies the Men of Dale. Whatever bond had formed between himself and King Bard, whatever was possible there between two vastly-different lifespans, Dis would use it to secure Erebor’s, and her sons', future. And the future for King Bard’s children too perhaps.

 

“You’ve not entered the treasure room?” she asked, moving subjects swiftly, her insides clenching.

 

Fili shook his head, his face full of sorrow and grim pain. “It’s beautiful, there’s so much gold, but the way it changed Uncle, I can’t...I won’t have that in my veins either.”

 

Kili patted Fili’s knee, “Fee’s got Dwarves in there sorting through it all.”

 

A wise idea – then should any like King Thranduil arrive, seeking specific desired pieces or perhaps a mere pitcher of the river of gold, the Dwarves might be ready.

 

“There’s many that’ll come seeking gold once word spreads of Dwarves in Erebor once more,” she warned her sons, her long-held worries unfolding.

 

“We’ll make sure Erebor is lived in first, that the gold’s used to help Dale too,” Fili thought aloud. “As they’re our allies.”

 

It’d be a tricky braid to manage as even a hint of gold would bring greedy Men to the gates. But Fili and Kili seemed to know this.

 

“We don’t shower them or ourselves in it,” Kili added. “Seeing as it’d bring more demands from Bard’s people. Gold never suits me anyway.”

 

Dis could only foresee King Bard demanding gold if his people needed it, if his family were in desperate need, even then would he beg before Dwarves? Unlikely, especially after Thorin’s behaviour. But he might ask, as a formal ally, for help. That was understandable and could be negotiated. Others who came to the gate would not be so polite but Dwarves were ever ready for battle and they would defend their home. Dis was determined that the gates would never remain forever closed again though.

 

A very tricky braid.

 

And she had trickier ones still to navigate. So now, she would leave her sons. She had to – there was much still to do. Her heart was refreshed by their spirit and thoughts. No doubt Kili would continue to frustrate Oin with his impatience but Fili could perhaps be persuaded to leave the healing rooms, especially once a certain visitor was brought forth.

 

Dis got to her feet, “Well, I must see your uncle and learn more about the Hobbit that won’t leave his chambers.”

 

Both Kili and Fili looked fond at mention of Bilbo, very telling.

 

“He _is_ stubborn,” agreed Fili. “And fussy and funny and important. He made Uncle smile, before the gold.”

 

Hmm, before Thorin banished him. Kili nodded at his brother’s words. “He’s come to visit us a couple of times. He looks like the pipe maker who used to play out by Fargin’s forge.”

 

The pipe maker had been a widow. Another glimmer to tuck away. Dis crossed the room to open the door and nod Tauriel inside.

 

“A visitor from Dale, I believe I can trust her to see you stay where you ought to.”

 

At Tauriel's appearance, Kili’s entire expression went slack with shock and then lit up. Tauriel was smiling very quietly but still remembered to bow to Dis in thanks.

 

“Your Highness.”

 

“See that he lies still enough to heal,” Dis instructed, unweaving a jade bead from her beard. “Wear this; it should prevent any who hold thoughts of forcing you to leave.”

 

Tauriel stared down at the bead but closed her fingers around it. She nodded seriously. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

 

Her voice was low. Dis patted the Elf’s shoulder firmly. Tauriel had saved Kili’s life and made him happy. That was enough to steep her in good stead. Dis would see that her spies told her further stories. King Thranduil would have no complaints – he had banished Tauriel after all. Thorin, when he woke, would have no room for complaints as he would wake to a stable strong kingdom.

 

Dis touched Fili’s shoulder. “See them chaperoned. I’ll send Oin in soon.”

 

Fili nodded, his expression amused by his brother’s behaviour as Tauriel came to sit beside Kili’s bed. Kili hadn’t taken his eyes from her, so entirely enraptured. And Tauriel was not now turning from his gaze.

 

“Seek me when you intend to return to Dale,” Dis told her.

 

She took a final look at her sons – strong and healing and already taking so many steps for themselves and their kingdom. Dis drank in the sight before she left, Haraka falling into step beside her.

 

“Now, to my brother.”

 

*

 

Thorin occupied a large healing room not far from his nephews. There were guards on the door of course who let Dis and Haraka past. Inside, Oin was working, murmuring under his breath as he checked over Thorin with the ease of long repeated practice. Thorin himself was lying motionless on a large bed though he was breathing. Dis concentrated on that, not the bandaged wounds, or how so much of his beard was missing, or how his hair was badly matted, or how much he looked like their father.

 

There was a faintly fragrant scent in the air, not one that Dis associated with Dwarven healing rooms. Then she spotted a small figure who was bound to be the Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins. He was making some sort of paste and was humming almost under his breath. He was wearing Dwarven clothes with sleeves rolled up, hadn’t Balin mentioned how well Bilbo had been dressed in his home? How fastidious he had been? Yet here he was, dirty and in ill-fitting garments and apparently uncomplaining. He had curling golden hair and the air of someone working extremely vigorously, with all their heart.

 

Oin bowed to her as he worked, “He rests still, Your Highness.”

 

Bilbo looked up suddenly, startled and registered Dis’s presence. He hurriedly put down his bowl and got to his feet, his expression worried, sad, tired and strained. Oin nodded between them by way of introduction.

 

“Princess Dis of Erebor and the Blue Mountains, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”

 

Dis held out a hand, “You’ve done much for my brother, Bilbo Baggins.”

 

Bilbo shook her hand and bowed neatly, “I...I’m sure it’s not enough, Your Highness.”

 

Dis smiled and squeezed his hand before letting go, “I’m sure Oin would disagree.”

 

“I would,” agreed Oin as he continued to work. “There’s something in your poultices that’s worked on his wounds, lad.”

 

Bilbo’s gaze fixed on Thorin, there was a wealth of worry and affection there. Dis doubted very much that Thorin had done enough to earn the steadfast Mr Baggins. Well, this was another glimmer, wasn’t it?

 

“I know Fili has lifted your ridiculous banishment,” Dis told the Hobbit. “And I’m sure he’s thanked you too but I will say it again – thank you, Mr Baggins, for helping my fool brother and for trying your best to prevent what came to pass.”

 

Bilbo looked wide-eyed with surprise and executed another neat little bow. He had very fine manners; he’d only be a good influence on Kili. The sadness that was deep in his expression, the grief and worry, it was a sensation that Dis herself knew well. She’d worn it often when her husband had passed away. She doubted Thorin had even noticed such a look on Bilbo’s face. Another glimmer indeed.

 

“You are welcome here,” she stated. “Should any say otherwise, tell them that Princess Dis has made your welcome clear. If there are any problems, inform me or Haraka, my second.”

 

She gestured to Haraka, who Bilbo bowed to as well. “Second?”

 

Ah, from what Dis had been told, Hobbits were not warriors. And clearly Bilbo was not being taught as much about Dwarves as he should, Dis would see that corrected, “As Dwalin is to Thorin. Someone to mark the safety of those with royal blood.”

 

The confusion cleared from Bilbo’s brow as Dis approached her brother. Her heart was greatly pained all over again. She pressed a gentle hand to Thorin’s chest – there was his heartbeat, still strong – and stroked the back of her fingers down his cheek – his skin was still warm. Here lay Thorin, King Under the Mountain.

 

“You fool,” she sighed loudly. “My sons are still alive but it is no thanks to you. I have an Elf and many others besides to thank for that and a Hobbit to thank for your survival. We have much to discuss, I would see you lay eyes on Erebor again and on what your nephew has built in your absence.”

 

She murmured prayers to Mahal, her hands soaking in Thorin’s reassuring warmth, before she let go, watching as Oin worked on one of Thorin’s headwounds.

 

“Has Tauriel aided in this?” Dis asked suddenly.

 

Oin shook his head, “An Elf’s skill would be welcome, Your Highness, but there’s too many under the Mountain that see Elves as enemies. There’s been claims she bewitched Kili in healing him.”

 

Dis snorted, of course there had been. She turned her head slightly, “See those stories and their authors noted.”

 

“Your Highness.”

 

Haraka left to connect with Dis’s spymaster. Dis would certain she’d hear reports by the end of the night.

 

Dis could feel Bilbo’s stare but focused on Oin, “She’s here now with the boys. I said I’d send you in.”

 

Oin grunted as he finished what he was doing, saying to Bilbo as he left, “You know what needs doing, lad.”

 

Dis didn’t leave yet, she smiled at Bilbo who looked rather nervous. Dis wondered what stories he had been told and what exactly had been said by her immediate family. Dis already liked what she’d heard about Bilbo and she liked what she’d encountered. A good influence was to be nurtured. It looked as though Bilbo himself could do with some nurturing.

 

“I trust my people have been welcoming?” Dis asked.

 

There was a tiny pause before Bilbo nodded, “The Company has been very good to me, Your Highness.”

 

Very neatly done. “And those you did not face a dragon for?”

 

Bilbo’s expression pinched and he didn’t look entirely comfortable. Ah.

 

“The last thing many heard of you was your banishment,” Dis surmised. “And perhaps they believe Fili addled by fever or worse when he renounced it. Well, I am neither addled nor injured and I will make very publicly sure that all under the Mountain know of the legitimacy of your place here.”

 

Bilbo gaped a little and managed, “Please don’t go to terrible trouble on my behalf. I’ve heard that, I’ve made things bad enough already I’m sure.”

 

He was a humble nervous little thing but considering how some Dwarves likely treated him, that was hardly surprising. And he’d chosen to disobey Thorin when Thorin’s behaviour had been at its most ruthless. There was courage in the Hobbit and determination and great kindness. Here he was, tending to Thorin despite all Thorin’s behaviour, despite how many continued to act towards him.

 

“Bilbo, there are many rifts within this Mountain that are little to do with you, and the people must be lead,” Dis responded. “Now, do you intend on returning to your Shire or remaining here?”

 

Bilbo was gaping again, “Remaining? I could...? I’m not a Dwarf, Your Highness.”

 

“Neither is Tauriel, yet she lives in Dale amongst Men and my son moons over her.”

 

For this was a glimmer of Bilbo that could cause deeper rifts or see stronger foundations built. Dis would know for sure once Thorin woke and she observed him with Bilbo. Thorin needed some steadiness and good-hearted kindness close to him. That was enough for Dis to know now, but if Bilbo intended on leaving once Thorin woke then it was better for Dis to know now so that provisions and plans could be made.

 

Bilbo looked rather unsure, conflicted perhaps, his gaze drawn back to Thorin, still motionless, still breathing.

 

“It is possible to return to Erebor once you leave it,” Dis suggested, because she knew all about leaving one home to make another.

 

Bilbo appeared more considering now. He had left his home intending to return no doubt; there would be matters there to deal with. Perhaps a Dwarf or two could go with him. Well, Dis could see she’d given him much to think about. She clasped a hand to his shoulder, gaining his attention again.

 

“You are welcome here, Bilbo Baggins.”

 

*

 

Haraka was waiting for Dis beyond the door and led her to a comfortable set of rooms close to the royal suite. All of Dis’s belongings had been stowed away. There were two Dwarven maids filling a tub with water hot enough to create steam – one of them, Grunia, Dis recognised from the Blue Mountains. She had been part of the group that had gone onto Erebor first once Dale had been reached. Dis’s shoulders dropped at the sight of the water; what a wonderful idea.

 

“Klzadi,” Haraka nodded towards the unfamiliar Dwarf. “She’s been in the Iron Hills with Dain.”

 

Of course, to show no favouritism, Dis would seek help not just from those that had lived with her in the Blue Mountains. Haraka knew that. Dis nodded towards Klzadi who dipped a curtsey as she poured another bucket of water, a couple of throwing axes strapped to her belt.

 

Dis had a meeting to organise as soon as the Elf King’s gems were located. She would make sure that King Thranduil, Fili, King Bard, Dain and Tauriel attended and perhaps Bilbo as well. It would not be a meeting in which nothing was resolved. Dis would see alliances and treaties forged.

 

She would call a council tomorrow morning. Fili would lead it, Dis would speak for the Blue Mountains, Dain for the Iron Hills, and Balin would bring his wisdom and knowledge of Erebor. Seconds would be present as well of course. Then there would be another meeting, with representatives of the blacksmith guild as well as the weavers, writers, miners, warriors and cooks. Dis doubted very much that Fili had had time or energy to hold that sort of meeting yet. It was the sort that Thorin had always loathed though hopefully he had taught Fili enough of what was expected of him.

 

Fili had always had patience and an ability to listen, but he had also always prioritised his brother. Well, Kili had long said he’d be Fili’s second and there’d be no stopping him now. He’d trust no one else with Fili’s safety, the pair of them would be a force to be reckoned with, if their focus didn’t waver. Tauriel would continue to second Bard perhaps but she’d be close to Erebor still. Kili would have to learn to live with his pining, to make sure it didn’t get in the way. And Fili would rule well in his uncle’s absence.

 

Dis would be as Balin had long been to Thorin. Her sons would expect and seek nothing less. Dis would see the foundations of Erebor strengthen, she would see her sons heal and their futures secured as was possible. She would see her brother truly live. The Mountain was no longer a shadow over his heart, it was his home and he had to live in it.

 

Grunia and Klzadi left the room; Dis would address them both later and discuss what was expected of them. For now, Haraka had likely arranged guards on the other side of the chamber door and there was a bath for Dis to enjoy. She sighed and began to undress. Sure hands helped her.

 

There was King Bard and Dale, Tauriel and Kili, Fili, his temporary reign and who he would marry because even once Thorin took the crown thoughts would soon turn to Fili’s heirs. Fili would be practical enough not to dismiss Dis's current agreeable idea out of hand. Thorin and Bilbo. King Thranduil’s gems and the King of Mirkwood and King Bard had interacted. And all the Dwarves who wanted Dain on the throne or Tauriel out of Erebor or the purity of Dwarf blood amongst royalty.

 

All that braiding.

 

For now, Dis tucked all such glimmers away and stepped into the prepared tub, breathing in the Mountain’s air. Her heart twisted; for her sons were alive and beginning to thrive once more, her brother was still but breathed. Her people were safe, the dragon has been defeated, Elves and Men were not fighting each other or Dwarves. The Orcs had been defeated but Dis was not foolish enough to believe that was forever. Wasn't she part of the third generation who’d faced such darkness, with her sons the fourth, already affected? Hadn’t she heard stories, and there were always more stories to be told?

 

Dis would be ready, her people, her family, would be ready and they, and their allies, would be as close to safe as possible.

 

She ducked her head underwater, her beads and braids floating about her face. Haraka was close to the tub, smiling that smile that Dis knew without seeing. Everything was calm and quiet for now.

 

Dis had long known that even as a Princess not expected to rule, her time would rarely be her own. It was a life Dis had skill for, a life she worked hard at and took pleasure and satisfaction from. But she’d also long known that having royal blood meant the value of carving out a little time without a circlet across her brow, time for her to breathe without duty. She'd had Stird, beloved husband, loving father, for too short a time but it had been full and their own for as many moments as they had been able to manage. She had taught her sons such lessons since birth. Despite appearances, they did both listen and learn.

 

Dis would have several hours now, then refreshed she would dress and don her circlet once more and gladly begin the braid. There was a feast to attend tonight, meetings to organise for herself and Fili, fellow Dwarves to greet and hear, a spymaster to subtly gain reports from, she needed to check that her people were settled well and without strife. She needed to join Fili in hearing reports from Dwarves who had been working in Dale, she and Fili needed to meet with Dain about his expectations, she needed to know Bilbo and Tauriel even better and what their decisions were. And there were funerals to hold. Dis’s sons and brother lived.

 

Dis surfaced, a few long-held tears running down her face, and took Haraka's hand.

 

_-the end_

 

 

 


End file.
